


The Vagabond

by Jasper Kirby (blakesaregrates)



Series: Two Player Game Oneshots [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Also alcohol mentions, Gen, NOT BE MORE CHILL, Not actually Be More Chill, Nothing more than what’s in the song I guess, Song fic, Song: The Vagabond (Iconis/Salazar), There is swearing whoops, Two Player Game (Joe Iconis/George Salazar), and also suicidal thoughts I guess?, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 08:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16594619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakesaregrates/pseuds/Jasper%20Kirby
Summary: THIS IS NOT BE MORE CHILLNo really, it’s a song fic based on The Vagabond from the Two Player Game Album. Explanation in the author’s note, so here’s a snippet for you:It’s hot. It’s far too hot, hotter than it’s been in a long time.When was the last time he saw a car go by?He didn’t have much water left, and his sneakers were so old that he was starting to feel the hot sand like he was walking barefoot. He might as well be doing so at this point.He stinks, and the back of his neck feels burnt. His satchel feels heavier than usual. He can’t even bring himself to look at his hand in fear of impulsively downing the last of his whiskey.





	The Vagabond

**Author's Note:**

> LISTEN I know this isn’t Be More Chill, but I didn’t know what else to tag it as. This is just a song fic based on The Vagabond from the Two Player Game album. The first piece will be just a ramble based on the song, the second piece will be actual plot with characters and mostly just fluff. Not sure if I’m gonna do it as chapters or make it a series of oneshots. 
> 
> My plan is to make a series where each piece is based on each song from Two Player Game, but Vagabond is currently my favourite song on the album so here it is. Let me know if you’re interested in reading more!

It’s hot. It’s far too hot, hotter than it’s been in a long time.  
  
When was the last time he saw a car go by?  
  
He didn’t have much water left, and his sneakers were so old that he was starting to feel the hot sand like he was walking barefoot. He might as well be doing so at this point.  
  
He stinks, and the back of his neck feels burnt. His satchel feels heavier than usual. He can’t even bring himself to look at his hand in fear of impulsively downing the last of his whiskey.  
  
He hasn’t been able to have a sink-shower or steal more booze in a while, since no one has offered him more than their bottle of water and the spare change from their glove box.  
  
Stingy bastards.  
  
The road is empty. The road is empty and he’s so fucking close to dropping down, gulping the last of his Jim Beam and just letting himself die then and there.  
  
It’s Thursday, he’s in Utah. He was in Arizona on Wednesday, and New Mexico on Tuesday. He’s just so fucking tired. He saw a dead deer about an hour back. Its eyes, so cold and lifeless and glassy, seemed to speak to him. He thinks about how he feels, and realises it was his warning- if he doesn’t get out of here soon, he’s gonna end up like that deer, and some poor asshole is gonna drive past and see his rotting corpse on the side of the highway...and will probably carry on driving past.  
  
Sounds appealing.  
  
He’s good at running away. He’s proven that in his past actions. ~~He wonders if she thinks about him, if she wonders where he is.~~ He’s run from every person that’s helped him, taking with him their alcohol, half their food and maybe a pricey item that could be sold, just so he could afford to fucking eat once he ran out of canned shit. ~~He wonders if she’s concerned for him. She shouldn’t be.~~  
  
The sun is starting to set. It’s gonna get cold. What if instead of dehydration, he freezes to death? It’s like a lottery of death!  
  
Fuck, the heat really is getting to him.  
  
He makes the mistake of looking down: the sunlight reflects off his ring, and his stomach jolts. He needs to get out of here.  
  
He needs to get out he needs to get out he needs to get out he needs to get out he needs to get out he needs to get out he needs to get out he needs to get out  **he needs to get out-**  
  
There’s a car coming. He can hear it. He stops, he turns around, and there, in the distance, is a fucking car.  
  
He’s learned his lesson about his emotions, and he remembers to stick out his right hand.  
  
_You see I don’t have much, don’t have much baby_  
 _I don’t want much, don’t want much baby_  
I don’t need much, need much ‘cept, baby  
The promise of shelter at the end of the day  
From the places where the bad bastards swarm and prey  
With every bone in my body, wanna hear you say  
That this vagabond can put his walking shoes away  
I’m just a vagabond looking for a place to stay  
  
“Hey, d’ya need a ride?”


End file.
